Eat Pray Love 326 by Elizabeth Gilbert

Obviously I have nothing better to do in my life but obsess over this book.

But let me explain this train of thought anyway.

I have recently had two people come to me with breakup depression related questions. Since I am no stranger to those lonely nights wallowing in my self-induced, derisive, and endlessly pathetic pity parties, it seems I am the reigning champion of breakups- and therefore have all the answers. Or, at least, the reliable (and hopefully healthy) logic of someone who has actually “been there”.

For the sake of this post let us call my two friends Rose and Tyler. Rose had a lovely relationship with a french man (in France nonetheless!) which ended tragically (but still lovely in a Woody Allen way) and she’s been a little off ever since. Tyler had it a bit worse. He was left by someone we both believed to be sincere, when it turns out, we were wrong. Suffice to say she broke him, but he is valiantly (and I really mean that) fighting to put himself together again, and in a very good way.

So while I am pondering Rose and Tyler’s situations on the back burner in my head, I come across this idea of Angel and Devils being revealed after they have left you. Which makes a bit of sense to me. And not just in relationships, but in friendships or family or coworkers or random people you meet in an elevator who point out you should tie your shoe. That has happened to me.

Jason, a fellow art student at my highschool would tell me things about his home life, and while others approached him as a devil, he would always leave me feeling lighter.

Monica, my best friend in middleschool, someone I thought I enjoyed spending time with? No, always felt funny after we parted. Looking back, it still doesn’t feel right.

My ninth grade teacher that I always had vivid discussions (if you could call them that) about my horrid grade and gave me my one and only detention because I was chewing gum? Taught me that “Change is good. Hard, but good.” I thank her every time I think about it.

As for those few boys I find qualified enough to be around? Boys I still regret some choices with? Boys that I will never be able to forget because of what we agreed about, fought about, learned from each other and from ourselves apart?

Sometimes I still don’t know what they were. But they did make me into the person I am comfortable to be now. And perhaps that is enough.

So.

What do you pray about?

Do you pray about love? About money? Or fame? Do you pray for yourself or do you ask God to give to someone else?

For the longest time, I cannot remember any other prayer I have or have had but one: protect my family.

My parents are both now over the age of fifty and it terrifies me. I am afraid for their safety.

Mother works at a hair-salon and is on her feet all the time. I pray she keeps her health. Protect my family.

My father is a mechanic. I imagine him losing an arm, or hurting his back one day. The thought itself brings tears to my eyes. God, protect my family.

As for my brother…

My brother is away at college studying to become a pilot. I don’t think I need to describe the fears there.

Sometimes I include myself in this prayer. But most of the time, I leave it to the three most important people in my life.

Dear God, I pray for you to please protect my family.

Amen.

The main article says it much better, but if I don’t give any explanation, you might not be interested.

I am a rather large fan of beach glass. I love to wander the local beaches looking for these tiny smoothed fragments to man’s wasted time. They are beautiful representations of what nature, or really just the ocean waters, can do with our trash.

If you are in any way similar, let me introduce to you: MacKerricher State Park in Fort Bragg CA.

A beach made of glass.

The article goes on to say that the beach was an old dumping site, and while people found “better” places to take their garbage, nature took all that rubbish and turned it into something people now travel to. On purpose.

Funny how Mother Earth can do that.

Tonight, a good handful of them had asked if I would join them. I had responded with the normal “I am tired and going to bed” and the excuse that drinking is done on Saturday. But really, I don’t drink that often. I think I have a drink every three months or longer. I don’t really like to because (one) it makes me very sleepy after one, and (two) alcohol is an intestinal irritant, so I stay away from it.

I don’t even remember when my last drink was.

What I should have said was that “I would rather sip tea and blog than drink myself stupid”. Though it may sound rude, it is less expensive and so very very true. I will always prefer a warm cup of peppermint tea and a lovely book in a calm cafe to a loud, rambunctious bar with ridiculously expensive drinks.

Don’t you?

I adore the softness in this song. She has a beautiful voice.

And it was such a perfect end track to The Perfect Pieces In The Purple Pond, which is a Bones episode for you non-watchers out there.

The thought of graduate school in the UK is solidly formed on my thought patterns. A blockade to much else proper thought…

Me and my two best friends have discussed this. A deep set desire to remove ourselves from where we are. One wishes to be in France. I wish to be in the UK. The other wishes to be out of the US.

I want to wander streets that I have never known. I want to touch objects older than I can imagine. I want to kiss someone who likes the way I cross my feet when I read. I want to hear long lectures about cuneiform. I want to have hand cramps from writing too many notes.

But for now, I will go to bed.

Here, some tunes to enjoy until next time.

Yes “Owner of a Lonely Heart”

White Lies “Bigger Than Us”

Supergrass “Moving”

Stereophonics “Maybe Tomorrow”  yes, I know they’re Welsh, shh!

The first: I may have IBS, which if you follow my posts at all, I did post some time ago about Intestinal Flu- which can lead into IBS when combined with stress, but I’ll post more when I’ve found out for sure at the next doctors appointment.

The second: I have plantar warts on my right foot, big toe.

Both of these things make me (negativly) self-conscious. I cannot tell you exactly how I feel about the possibility of IBS, but it affects everything I do. I would gladly take back my 20lbs for proper plumbing.  As if this is not enough to make me cry, my annoying plantar warts serve as a big thorny reminder of all the things wrong in the world.

So, I’m sitting outside in the sun before I work at 4pm today, beginning to re-reading Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat, Pray, Love because it makes me feel better about life and serves as a nice pick-me-up. It really is one of my favorite books since she talks so well on the topic of ‘self-discovery’ and recovery from a bad relationship, as well as asking the lovely question “What do you want?”. Which is nice to ponder every once in a long while and I’m thinking how great her life is now, and listing all the foods I won’t ever eat again because that is how IBS works…

And a little brown butterfly lands on my toe. The one on my right foot.

As if it was sent as a reminder. To say that life isn’t so horrible. To tell me that there is a reason, that there are more good things in my life than not, and that I need to “carry on” as the saying goes. Which is remarkable true. I have a great deal of things to be happy about. My mother is a big one, my father and brother as well, because family is important to me (maybe the biggest thing in my life). My friends are an invaluable source of comfort and support. I am gratefully for having food to eat at all, and a lovely little library in my room to pull from. The town, really the state, I live in has no major weather problems to stress me out any more than I am already. My job has a good group of people and the hours are not as bad as I let on because I’d be up at home anyway, so might as well make some money. And I do have a life to live in the end of it all, so when you get down to it, I’m really ahead in the great scheme of things…

All from a little brown bug.

copyright Trevor Morris. click image for his website.

The Honey Trees

Oh I could sail the world
Search through the darkest waters but
I’d never find
These golden eyes

I couldn’t really understand why I was so drawn to this song. Something about it made me hit the ‘repeat’ button more times than I care to admit. And then I realize with a little sick twist in my stomach. Because it always comes back to the same thing.

My first love has golden eyes.